


Shadows In The Dark

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: In Dreams [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames is a forger. He knows how to pick up on emotional content and sidelong glances. Ariadne never thought he would use those skills on her, and never thought she would be in this kind of predicament.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "sexual extortion: to keep a secret" box on my [hc_bingo](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/) card.

The memory of the kiss with Arthur burned on Ariadne's lips long after she picked up her luggage at LAX. She watched Arthur pick up his own luggage and stride out of the door after giving her a polite nod. It was the glance of a stranger, and something twisted in her gut. She couldn't tell if he was pretending as part of their cover, or if he really was that dismissive of her. _It was worth a shot,_ he had said, and now Ariadne was left thinking that perhaps the kiss had left him cold. Perhaps he thought there was nothing there between them, nothing to build on.

She numbly left the airport. She was in LA now, and she was rich. Saito had a carefully orchestrated set of strings in place; she watched Cobb go through security without a hitch, so that meant her share of the job was safely deposited in her new account. She wouldn't have to worry about getting a job right after graduation and she wouldn't have to worry about her student loans.

But she still had this vague sense of _What now?_ that was bothering her.

Eames whistled for a taxi to her left, and when one arrived, he grasped her arm. "C'mon, love," he said with a smile. "You and I should have a chat."

Ariadne had no idea how it happened, but she was bustled into the taxi with him, and the man was driving toward a hotel she was sure would be expensive. Eames grinned at her, a knowing and mocking smile, something she had previously seen him give Arthur. "What?"

"Arthur won't look at you that way," he said flatly, his face hovering close to hers. "Not when you're so bloody innocent, not as you are now."

She felt the air leave her lungs in a rush, and the blood drained from her face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You think I didn't notice you? Building those mazes together, close enough to touch?" His eyes were empty, and Ariadne couldn't read them for the life of her. "You couldn't bring yourself to touch him, though. Couldn't quite make the jump from colleague to lover. Just as well, since he _never_ fucks anyone he works with."

"I don't have to listen to this," she said, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. "You have it all wrong."

"Do I?" he asked, leaning in so that his lips hovered by her ear. "Am I wrong? So why don't I just tell him about these mad fantasies of yours? Don't think I don't know you have them." Her shiver had nothing to do with his tone of voice and everything to do with the thought of Arthur looking at her in shock and disgust. The thought of never seeing him again was worse than the thought of never sleeping with him. "Or, you can pretend I'm him."

Ariadne recoiled and stared at him in shock. "What?"

Eames sat back, lounging in his corner of the taxi. "Oh, Ariadne. Such an innocent you are." He smirked at her, legs spread as wide as the taxi would allow, his knee brushing against hers. "You really don't know how this world works, do you?"

"Wh-what?"

He leaned forward, a smile on his face. "You're so talented." He reached out to touch her cheek, and Ariadne kept herself still. "Yet you still have so much to learn."

"I'm a wonderful architect," she hissed, eyes narrowing at him. She resisted the urge to slap his hand away.

"Absolutely," he agreed easily enough. "But really, do you think Arthur would ever look at you the way you look at him?" There wasn't a sense of triumph in his expression; if there had been, Ariadne would have cheerfully contemplated kicking him right in the crotch. But he looked at her as if stating a fact, not as if he was winding her up. "If you do, by all means, let me tell him about this little crush. Let me bring you both somewhere and you can see how far he'll take it."

Something shriveled inside of Ariadne's chest and she looked away from Eames' intense gaze. He slid closer to her and rested his hand against the back of her neck. "Why are you saying this to me?" she asked in a small voice. "What do you want?"

"You."

She turned to face him, expression shuttered. He looked at her, no artiface in his gaze. "Why?"

"There's more to this innocence," he said slowly, running his hand from the back of her neck to the top of her chest. His palm was right over her heart. "This isn't mine, but I can have everything else, can't I?"

"Or you'll tell Arthur, is that it?"

"Do you want me to?"

Ariadne thought of Arthur, with those fiercely determined expressions on his face and those carefully pressed suits on his body. He moved with precision, even more so when in the dream. She had _wanted_ to kiss him, and had been thrilled when he asked. The blank expression on his face afterward left her feeling hollow, and dealing with Cobb's guilt over Mal had allowed her to ignore it for a while. But now that Cobb's issues with Mal were resolved and Ariadne was alone in her own mind again, she could feel the weight of Arthur's cool gaze over her and the press of his lips against hers. She was a colleague to him, nothing more. It broke her heart to realize that.

"No," Ariadne told Eames in a soft voice. She didn't protest when he bent down to kiss her, his poker chip clenched within his hand.

***

Eames pressed her up against the wall of his hotel room, leaving kisses along the slope of her throat. She could feel the stubble along his jaw, the rough sensation of his hands moving over her blouse. Ariadne used to wear scarves because she liked the dash of color there, the way it seemed to be an accent to what she was wearing. Now she wore them to cover up the marks on her throat that he left behind. It had been three months since this arrangement with Eames started. Ariadne refused to call it a relationship, _refused_ to think of it that way. It was sex, it was letting her brain go on autopilot. She had tried to close her eyes and think of Arthur kissing her, tried to think of how his lips had felt over her own in that dream with Fischer. She had tried, but Eames felt too different from Arthur and now the sensation of his mouth over hers was all she could remember.

She tried to hate that, but couldn't quite bring herself to do so. Eames was many things, but a rotten lover was not one of them.

Ariadne's clothes were scattered to the four corners of the room, and Eames dropped to his knees in front of her. His mouth went straight to her center, already damp from his fevered touch and heady kisses. He pushed her legs apart and spread her wide with his thumbs. There was the scrape of his stubbled jaw against her thighs, then his tongue pushed forward to taste her. She kept one hand at the top of his head, the other clenched in a tight fist between her breasts. Her bishop was there, cutting into her palm. This was real, this was not a job. This was because she couldn't have Arthur, no matter how often her eyes followed him around the workspace, no matter how close he stood to her when she was constructing mazes to prepare for a job. She cried out and let her eyes slide shut when Eames slipped two fingers inside of her, pumping hard as he sucked on her clit.

She had long since stopped crying, stopped hoping that one day Arthur would see _her._

When she came with a strangled gasp, Eames pushed her face down onto the bed. He nudged apart her knees and stood between them, his pants still around his waist though his belt was unbuckled. She could feel his clothed erection pressing against her bottom when he leaned down over her, and she sucked in a breath as she caught hold of the sheets. Eames wordlessly pushed her hands down flat over them, his hands tight and rough on her wrists. He kissed her neck and back, ran a line along the ridges of her spine. Ariadne could feel her bishop pressed beneath her palm, knew that Eames had seen it when he forced her to uncurl her hand. He knew that she checked on reality, just as he did. Sometimes she thought that perhaps he wasn't entirely sure this arrangement was real, that he wasn't inside her every chance he got because she let him. Ariadne felt him move down her back, and he let go of her wrists to grasp her hips. He kissed the small of her back, then moved lower still so that his breath hit the very center of her.

_Just do it,_ she almost wanted to say, but instead her breath shuddered inside of her chest. If she did that, if she felt nothing about what they were doing, wouldn't that make her the same as him? Wouldn't it make her soulless?

"He's blind," Eames said suddenly, pressing his lips against the inside of her thigh. She froze; it was the first time he had mentioned Arthur in the entire three months they had been doing this. She could hear the rasp of cloth moving, could hear the foil packet being torn open. Eames' hand was heavy as it slid along her spine, but there was emotion in the caress. He wasn't as unaffected as this as Ariadne had thought. "And to think I thought jealousy would help you."

Ariadne didn't have time to ask him what he meant before he thrust into her to the hilt. She groaned at the feel of him, the sheets and the bishop tight within her fists. Facedown, she smothered her cries as he pushed into her, filling her and holding her tight. She clenched down hard around him, tilting her hips up and back toward him as best as she could. He pulled on her hips and thighs, deepening his thrusts, and she came with a startled cry. He kept going, until she was rising high again, until she was writhing and thrashing and nearly bucking backward off of the bed. He came then, but didn't stop moving until Ariadne came as well.

She lay there beneath him, struggling to catch her breath. Eames eased back off of her, then disappeared into the hotel bathroom to clean himself up. Ariadne pulled herself up onto the bed after a moment, lying on her stomach with the tangled sheets all around her. Eames stood in the doorway when he was done, dressed only in his button down shirt. If he was anywhere else, he would have lit up a cigarette as he leaned against the doorframe to look at her sprawled across the bed. "You look thoroughly debouched."

She sighed and pushed her bishop to rest on the nightstand beside the alarm clock. "What time are we meeting everyone tomorrow?"

"Eleven. Plenty of time to go through the maze together if you like."

She had done that with him a few times in the past three months, and sometimes he bent her over a table in a random place within the mazes to fuck her right there in the dream. Then once the time ran out, he would push her onto her back and make her come. The first time, Ariadne had been afraid one of the others would walk into the warehouse early and find them. She had been especially afraid of Arthur catching them; she didn't want him knowing about her tangled feelings for him and she wanted him knowing about this _thing_ with Eames even less. But no one ever caught them, and now she was wondering how much of it was Eames not wanting the others to know about them either.

Ariadne folded her arms beneath her head and looked at him. "The maze is perfect."

"Of course it is, love. You made it." He grinned rakishly at her, pushing himself off of the doorframe. He sat down on the bed beside her, then ran his hand along her back. "But sometimes, running through it outside of a job can be... exhilerating."

She turned over onto her back, so that Eames' hand came to rest over her stomach. There was a flare of heat in his eyes as he looked at her, and she could almost feel his hands caressing her breasts. "This will be an easy job. I thought I'd sleep in. We can run through the maze afterward, if you like."

Eames smiled at her, almost predatory. "Oh, yes, I like." He leaned down over her, his eyes locked to hers. "I like very much."

Ariadne reached up to touch his face, almost wondering at how he could change so drastically sometimes. "I wonder if I'll ever meet the real you," she murmured softly.

"You have, love," he said, taking her fingers into his mouth. "This is it." He kept that smile on his face as he touched her hand and licked the inside of her wrist. "You've seen everything there is to see. I'm a forger, remember?"

But surely even forgers were real somewhere, if you dug down deep enough. Ariadne had to believe that. She had to believe in something. "I suppose you are," she replied.

He hovered over her. "I'm a forger, an opportunist and a right bastard when you get down to it. Isn't that everything you need to know about me?"

Ariadne resisted the urge to look away from his intense gaze. He was trying to prove something, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what it was. "No, it isn't," she said finally, and covered his mouth with her fingers. "But it'll do for now."

***

Ariadne came to a halt as she came into the warehouse bearing coffee and snacks. Arthur was standing over the maze she had built, peering down at it, his hands braced against the table as she surveyed the scale model. Eames was standing just behind him, pointing at something. His head was right next to Arthur's, his mouth all but pressed up by Arthur's ear, all but licking at it. Her knees started to knock together as she saw them, as she imagined Eames pushing against Arthur or yanking down his pants to--

"Ari, love," Eames said, eyes brightening when he saw her drawn face. "Come here and point out that new addition to the maze you were talking about."

With shaking fingers, she deposited the coffee and snacks on another table. Cobb was scheduled to arrive in about an hour's time; it depended on whether his new babysitter arrived at his house on time or not. An hour alone with these two men, one that knew her intimately, and one that she wished would want to. Dear God, who had she pissed off to be put into this kind of predicament?

"I told you she's amazing," Eames was telling Arthur, oblivious to Ariadne's discomfort. He always was, the smug bastard.

"I know that," Arthur said, rolling his eyes at Eames. He was carefully observing the addition to the model, looking it over at every angle. He looked up at Ariadne, his expresion clear and eyes without hint of whatever he was thinking. "The mark isn't going to know what hit him."

"Thank you," Ariadne replied, her voice shockingly steady. "Did you want to look at that room up close?"

"In the PASIV, you mean?" he asked, head tilted to the side, contemplating her. "It doesn't look like you'd need to do any last minute changes."

"You're the point man, though," Ariadne said with a shrug. This was about the job. She could talk about the job and find that inner core of strength. It was just everything else to do with Arthur where she fell apart at the seams. "I don't think there need to be changes, but if you say it does, I'll do it."

"A wonderful addition to the team, isn't she?" Eames said birghtly, clapping Arthur on the shoulder. He looked at Eames in irritation; in true form, Eames blithely ignored it and moved to start setting up the PASIV for the three of them. "Let's check out that level, shall we?"

"Do you really want to check out a level two hours before we're going to use it?" Arthur asked, eyebrow arched. Ariadne looked down at her shoes to keep herself from reaching out to touch his arm or trace the line of his jaw. God, she was utterly besotted. No wonder it had been easy for Eames to manipulate her.

"Let's have a little fun, for a change," Eames replied. He gestured for Ariadne to lie down, and she did so immediately. Arthur frowned at her. "What?"

"I don't think this is a good idea," Arthur said, shaking his head. He gestured toward the scale model Ariadne had built. "This is an amazing maze. There doesn't have to be any kind of adjustment to it. It's fine." He narrowed his eyes at Eames. "I don't know what you've got in mind, but don't drag Ariadne into it."

_Too late,_ she thought miserably, sitting up. Eames merely had a cocky grin in his face in response. "What? Sex? Well, darling, if you weren't going to do anything about it, why shouldn't I?"

She couldn't breathe. What had he just said?

Arthur stared impassively at Eames for a beat, and Ariadne was sure she looked stricken. "Is that how it is, then?"

"That's exactly how it is."

Another beat, and then Arthur swung at Eames, connecting with his jaw.

Ariadne's hands flew to cover her mouth, and she jumped to her feet. "Oh my god!" She looked between the two, not sure who she should be concerned about. She couldn't believe her ears when she heard Arthur growl "Don't you fucking _touch_ her, asshole" with an air of menace that made her shiver.

Eames only laughed. "So that's how it is, is it?"

Arthur launched himself at Eames, pummeling the other man mercilessly. Ariadne pushed her way between them, trying to break up the fight before it devolved into serious harm. Cobb would be there in an hour. They needed their point man and forger to work, dammit. Even if it was an easy job, someone getting utterly fucked up would ruin it.

She stilled when she felt an erection press against her thigh. For a second she thought it belonged to Eames, but he was beneath her and laughing uproariously. Ariadne didn't get the joke until she realized that the erection belonged to Arthur. She turned her head slowly and saw him looking away from her almost as if ashamed of himself. Without thinking, she leaned forward and kissed his jaw tenderly, shifting slightly so that she could slide her hand along the back of his head, her fingers sliding through his hair. He pulled back slightly, looking almost wary and confused, as if this was all some kind of elaborate trick that was being played on him, as if she was in cahoots with Eames.

But in for a penny, in for a pound.

She shifted to kiss his mouth, her hands along his face and neck. She could feel Eames behind her, his hands running down the sides of her torso. "Finally," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her neck. Had he expected this all along? Arthur's mouth opened beneath hers, and his tongue invaded her mouth to caress. _Yes,_ Ariadne thought, feeling his shaking fingers start to unbutton her blouse. Eames was saying filthy things against her neck, about how much she had always wanted him inside her, about how good Ariadne felt, how delicious she tasted. Fuck, it wasn't supposed to feel this hot, was it? But her heart beat triple time at the sensation of the men on either of her. Was this how it felt? This wanton lust and abandon was new to her, but dear God she felt _alive_ and somehow whole for the first time in months. This was like that first revelation with Cobb, when she first discovered the dreaming space and how easy it was to warp reality in dreams.

Arthur's fingers were cold when they slid inside her blouse. Ariadne didn't care. She went to work on his shirt as Eames pulled the halves of her blouse open for Arthur. She shrugged out of it quickly and went back to attacking buttons and belt loops. She needed to feel his skin on hers, needed to know that this was really going to happen, and it wasn't going to fall apart as soon as her mouth left his. Someone worked the clasp on her bra free, probably Eames, and whatever dismay Ariadne felt at losing Arthur's kiss was replaced by sheer pleasure when his mouth fell onto her breast. She slid the fingers of one hand through his hair, and the other was still tugging at his shirt. He pushed free of it and then brought his hands back to her torso, only to start unbuttoning her jeans.

Eames was behind her still, his hands cupping her breasts and holding them steady for Arthur to suck on. He had his lips by her ear, murmuring "Steady, love," every once in a while when she thought she would buck against Arthur's mouth. One of his hands slid down from her breast, brushing across her stomach to help Arthur shove her jeans down, and his fingertips ghosted across her pubic bone. Ariadne was gasping, hands moving restlessly, and her legs fell open as soon as Arthur yanked the pant legs off of her. He slipped his fingers down, inside her panties, and her breath fractured. "Arthur," she whined, clutching him to her breast. "Oh, God, please, Arthur..."

She was wet for him already, and he easily slipped his fingers inside of her, then dragged them up to her clit. He teased her, still methodical and paying attention to details. She came, writhing beneath his mouth and hands, and she could hear Eames chuckling, his erection pressed against her back. Arthur switched to her other breast even as he kept working her toward another orgasm. "Don't you want inside her?" Eames taunted. Ariadne could hear a rustling sound, and she opened her eyes in time to see him passing Arthur a condom. "Go on."

Though Arthur's expression when he looked up didn't change, his eyes were smoldering. Ariadne's mouth fell open at the sight of him rolling the condom onto himself. She shimmied out of her soaked panties and welcomed Arthur into her. He let out a soft groan and moved forward to kiss her mouth again. Eames tipped them so that they rolled over onto Arthur's back, and Ariadne could feel Arthur's grip on her tighten. She smiled against his mouth and moved against him so that his strokes were deeper. There was the faint sound of cloth rustling, and Ariadne felt Eames' hands stroke her lower back. He slid his fingers along the curve of her ass, fingertips brushing against Arthur's thighs as well. She tilted her hips, silently giving him permission, and Eames' fingers moved to prepare her. She was still rocking against Arthur, slowly but surely, not ready to move faster and make this end so soon. Arthur was busy kissing her, his hands roaming across her back as if he wanted to memorize the feel of her underneath his fingertips.

Ariadne had no idea what Eames was using as lube, but didn't care. He went slowly and carefully, letting her get used to his fingers before withdrawing them and then pushing his cock inside of her. Arthur groaned beneath her, and Ariadne whimpered. _Fuck._ Ariadne couldn't tell if one of them had said it or it was simply in her own head. Arthur bucked his hips beneath her, and Eames slid his hands forward. One was braced against the floor for balance, and the other cupped a breast, his fingers toying with her nipple. Ariadne could only gasp for breath, could only keep her eyes locked to Arthur's. If this was the only time she could have him, she had to savor it.

They fell into a rhythm that gradually picked up tempo. Ariadne came first, clamping down tight around Arthur and groaning, her back arching and her eyes falling shut. Arthur's hands tightened on her ass, pulling her down further on him, and her body milked his hard. She couldn't tell if Eames or Arthur came first, but it was around the same time, and she was wedged tightly between their bodies. She curled up around Arthur, burying her face in the crook of his neck and breathed in the scent of him. "About fucking time," Eames grumbled against Ariadne's back, giving Arthur's head a playful swat.

Ariadne tried to process that, but her brain was still in that post-coital haze. She pressed her lips against Arthur's jaw, and he turned his head when she was about give him another kiss. Their lips met, soft and gentle, everything that Ariadne had hoped it would be. He cupped her face tenderly, almost reverently. They simply stared at each other as Eames pulled out and started to clean himself off. Her lips curled into a soft smile as she stared at him, her heartbeat slowing to normal. "I didn't think this was what you wanted," he murmured.

"I thought you only considered me a friend," Ariadne admitted. "I didn't want to lose you if you felt strange about it."

"Think we can be both?" he asked quietly.

She flashed him a brilliant grin. "Eames is going to be insufferable."

"Goes with the territory," Arthur agreed, starting to smile. "You haven't known him long enough." He tucked her hair behind her ear. "I suppose I should thank him for this. Or at least stop trying to kill him when he's a bastard."

Ariadne laughed, and they moved to start cleaning up. She felt all stretched out and loose-limbed, and thought that perhaps it would be written all over her face what they had just done. But when Cobb arrived, he was none the wiser. The job went smoothly, and Cobb left to do a few errands before heading back home.

So it was the three of them left in the warehouse. Ariadne looked at Eames afterward, arms crossed over her chest. "I thought you said Arthur would never fuck anyone he worked with."

"So I did," Eames replied with an insouciant smile. He lit up a cigarette. "And he didn't, did he? That wasn't some kind of quick, cheap fuck, was it? Arthur was playing for keeps."

Ariadne followed his line of vision and saw Arthur standing in the doorway, shirtsleeves rolled up and collar undone, tie loose and askew. His expression was unreadable, but Ariadne knew now to look at his eyes. He was watching her every move, and would decide afterward what to do or say next. He was always prepared, she knew. He must have been running a dozen different scenarios in his head to try to figure out what he should say.

She strode forward and pulled him into the room. She kept her hands tight over his. "I'd like that. You know... If that was what you were doing?" God, she must have sounded like an idiot. "I mean..."

He pulled her close and kissed her, mouth open and hungry. Ariadne wrapped her arms around him and slid her tongue into his mouth, making a soft contented noise deep in her throat. She ignored Eames' chuckle behind them and kept her focus on Arthur. He was solid inside of the circle of her arms, and he kissed as if he couldn't get enough of her. When Ariadne moved to kiss his neck, he whispered in her ear "I didn't think you were interested in more than friendship. And you didn't answer earlier..."

"Are you crazy? I've wanted this since that dream kiss we had."

He smiled at her, almost shy, almost afraid to ask for more. Ariadne wondered if there had been an utter bitch in his past that made him gun shy with relationships; if so, Ariadne would cheerfully slap her until her teeth fell out. "We should head out. Go to dinner, perhaps." His voice was even, his expression one of confidence. Ariadne could almost hear the unspoken question in his words, however.

Eames strode forward and slung his arms around them both. "Or order takeout and make use of that king size bed in my hotel room." He laughed at Arthur's aggrieved expression. "Time enough to play the gentleman later, darling. You should get the urge to fuck her out of your system first."

"That won't change," Arthur said quietly, looking at Ariadne out of the corner of his eye. He was looking for her reaction.

Her cheeks pinked, but her smile was a pleased one. "Good. I don't want it to."

"Ah, children," Eames sighed, rolling his eyes. "Let's just go to bed. You can pledge undying love later."

"Why do you think you're invited again?" Ariadne asked, frowning slightly.

"Least you could do as a thank you for hooking you two up," he answered sweetly. "And come on... That was a good time earlier." He flashed them both a rakish grin. "I think we can top that, don't you?"

Arthur gave Ariadne a sidelong look. "I'm up for that challenge. Are you?"

She kissed him. "Absolutely."

As they headed to Eames' hotel room, Ariadne looked over at the two men. Somehow, this felt right. This was exactly where she needed to be.

The End


End file.
